The Hard Lesson
by The Last Letter
Summary: In the last week of normal, Bay and Daphne go for pizza.


Daphne slammed her textbook shut, feeling the force vibrate through the tips of her fingers. She lay her head down against the hard cover of the book. Her head ached from staring at the tiny print for so long. Emmett, her study buddy and best friend, waved his hand in front of her face before beginning to sign. Daphne squinted, trying to understand his hands from the semi-awkward angle.

**Done with studying? **He asked, a knowing smirk on his face. He was surprised it had taken her so long to crack under the unforgiving pressure of homework.

Daphne pulled herself into a sitting position, though it felt like a herculean effort. **Yes, and I'm starving.**

** You're always hungry.**

** Are you calling me fat?**

** No, no, no! **Emmett signed quickly, taking in her indignant expression. **You're not fat.**

** I know! **Daphne smiled, the expression taking over her entire face. She tapped his arm before jumping to her feet. **Let's go get food!**

** What do you want? **Emmett asked, also standing up.

He met her eyes and at the same time they signed **pizza.**

** Do I even need to ask where? **Emmett prompted.

**No**, Daphne responded. **You know I only eat at one pizza place.**

** Saves us the trouble of deciding, **Emmett acknowledged before gesturing to the front door. **Now, let's go before you die from hunger.**

** You're reading my mind**. Daphne laughed, holding the front door open for him before the duo got on Emmett's motorcycle, stomachs rumbling as they drove away.

(-.-)

Bay picked at the cheese on her pizza, not really sure if she was quite hungry enough to eat it. She hadn't been hungry in quite some time now; not since she'd asked her parents for a DNA test. It was ludicrous, wasn't it? She was their daughter; they were her parents. To think anything else was downright hurtful to all of the involved parties. But Bay couldn't deny that she'd always felt different from the rest of her family. She just needed to prove to herself that she wasn't a foundling, accidentally brought into the lives of the Kennish family. She needed to prove to herself that she belonged to them and they belonged to her. Maybe then she would be able to come to terms with how different she was from the rest of her relatives.

Still, her stomach churned with dread. But that was ridiculous – there was nothing to be dreading. She was Bay Kennish. No mistakes had been made because, honestly, who made a mistake like that?

Feeling slightly consoled by this thought, Bay finally took a bite of her pizza. She wiped her fingers on her napkin before glancing around the nearly-empty pizza parlour. She turned up her iPod after noting that she wouldn't be disturbing any nearby patrons – she didn't want to be rude to anyone. Bay wiped her fingers on the napkin again, just to be sure that there was no residual grease, and reached out to her sketch pad. She repositioned it from its original position and picked up her pencil to start shading her sketch.

The next time she looked up, it was because the door opening in the corner of her eye had distracted her. She watched as a beautiful girl entered, a wide smile on her freckled face. Bay was captivated by the girl; she couldn't stop staring, though she didn't want to be seen as creepy. She was instantly jealous of the ridiculously mirthful girl. Bay often wondered what it would feel like to be happy and be able to show it off to the world. She, herself, often felt angry at the universe (though she didn't often have a good reason to be – it was just as feeling that sat in the pit of her stomach and liked to rear its ugly head a lot); even in her gleeful moments, she'd always felt the need to keep her composure and continue to present the bratty, angsty attitude that people expected from her. She instantly wanted to be like the girl – happy and not caring who knew it.

Bay then glanced to the boy who had come in with the girl. He was cute, she noted. He looked like one of the boys from the silent movies that her mom liked but her dad complained about. Bay liked those movies too; especially when they contained such classically handsome men.

She continued to watch as the approached the counter, pausing to appraise the menu. And then they did one of the most exquisite things she'd _ever_ seen; they talked with their hands.

Bay had never seen sign language up close before. She instantly thought it was magnificent. She'd always had a thing for hands (her father's, strong and steady, teaching her how to swing a bat; her mother's, soft and soothing, cradling her; Toby's, calloused and quick, making art with his guitar; Liam's, hot and heavy, sliding along her skin; and her own, paint flecked and swift, pouring her thoughts onto canvas). Bay loved art and she appreciated language as one of the strongest art forms in the world and now she was watching art literally being spilled from fingertips. Bay flexed her hands, the pencil being toyed between her fingers, and wondered if she'd ever get the chance to create words with her hands.

(-.-)

** That girl is still staring at us, **Daphne complained. She'd come to sit and have a nice meal with her best friend – not to be stared at by a rich girl who'd never seen a deaf person before. **What does she want?**

**Maybe she's into you? **Emmett joked.

Daphne rolled her eyes before retorting, **She's probably falling in love with you. Want to go say hi to her?**

** Pretty doesn't mean anything.** Emmett responded. **Especially not when it's hearing/deaf. Those relationships never work anyway.**

** I know, **Daphne signed, feeling something in her deflate a little. **I was just kidding anyway. It's still weird that she's watching us.** Daphne made a face, looking back at the dark-haired, solemn looking girl.

Emmett discreetly glanced over at the girl, watching at how she bit her lips and absently twirled a pencil in her hand. **She looks sad.**

** She looks beyond sad, **Daphne agreed. The more she glanced at the girl, the more upset she appeared to look. Daphne automatically felt sympathetic, as she did when she saw anyone who was upset. She wasn't about to deny that she was a fixer – she liked to see people happy. **Should I go talk to her?**

Emmett's expression was half amused, half exasperated. **Will you ever stop trying to fix people?**

Daphne beamed; no feeling compared to being completely understood by your best friend. **Yes … when they stop needing to be fixed.**

** Go on**, Emmett encouraged with a shake of his head, knowing that he couldn't stop her. And, honestly, he liked to see people go from frowns to smiles as much as Daphne did, she just liked to do things about it, whereas he just viewed it from afar, internally hoping for the best. **But be careful – this one looks like she might bite.**

** She's no match for me, **Daphne replied confidently, brushing off his warning. She rose to her feet and went to the table where the girl was seated.

As she took the few steps across the parlour, Daphne pulled in as many observations as she could. Emmett was right; the girl looked tough. But Daphne also sensed that the girl was close to her breaking point. Daphne felt a pull of compassion, as she always did when she encountered sad people. Daphne loved her life; she couldn't picture it any differently or any better than how it was right now. Sometimes, it felt like she was cheating. What did she ever do to receive such a good life when there were equally deserving people in the world?

But, she'd also had enough hardships in her life (especially her early life) to know that, when everything was going perfectly, she shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

The girl, who had been intently pretending she wasn't watching Daphne, looked up as Daphne come to a halt beside her table.

"Can I help you?" She demanded.

"I was wondering if you were all right," Daphne confessed, looking at the stern face.

The girl was suspicious. "Why wouldn't I be? And if I weren't, why would you care?"

"My friend and I both thought you looked down," Daphne revealed. "And, well, sometimes you need someone to care, even if it is a couple of strangers in a pizza place."

The girl's eyes flickered from Daphne to Emmett and back again.

"Thanks anyway," the girl dismissed, "but I don't even understand my problems. I can't dump them on people I talk to, let alone complete strangers."

"I understand," Daphne said with a nod. "I just wanted to check up on you."

The girl's lips formed a thin line as she nodded. Then, she looked down at her table, busying herself with packing up her sketchbook and pencils.

Daphne almost couldn't believe the rude ending to their conversation. She'd been trying to be nice, and the girl had just completely blown her off. She scoffed and huffed at the girl before turning back to Emmett.

(-.-)

Bay stood up, ready to leave the parlour and the weird conversation with the happy girl. But, something inside her made her reach and touch the girl's shoulder. Maybe it was a desire for connection; maybe it was a curiosity about the art of talking with her fingers, but whatever it was, it made her want to communicate with the girl one last time before she never saw her again.

The girl turned at Bay's touch, expectant eyes scrutinizing her. "Yes?" She prompted.

"I … uh," Bay hesitated, feeling awkward and unsure about just what she was doing. _Screw it,_she decided, she'd made a fool of herself already. She blurted, "The thing with your hands; how do you say 'hello'?"

The girl's eyes, which had been disgruntled, softened considerably at Bay's question. "Like this," she murmured as she demonstrated with her hands.

Bay watched the girl's swift hands, trying to commit it to memory, but knowing that she'd forgotten the first bit of it. Still, she attempted to imitate it. "Like this?" She asked, swinging her hands.

The girl laughed. "You're close. You're being over-dramatic about it though. Don't wave your arms so much. Gentler, like this," she said, showing Bay again.

Bay was _always _over-dramatic about anything that she encountered, but there was no need to tell the girl this. Instead, she copied the sign, having remembered all of it this time around and using the girl's suggestion to be gentler about it.

"Right!" The girl cheered, giving her an encouraging look. "That was nearly perfect."

Bay got the feeling that the girl was just being nice about it but Bay appreciated it. The girl, in general, seemed nice without reason, and it had been a very long time since someone had been nice to Bay for no reason. Usually, at school, everyone wanted something from her, and her family _had_ to love her.

Bay looked at the girl, at her bright face, and suddenly felt very small and very self-conscious standing next to the girl. "Thanks!" She squeaked, and darted out of the door.

She took a deep breath as she hit the sidewalk, speed-walking for home, already pushing the encounter from her thoughts.

(-.-)

**She was really sad**, Daphne commented as she sat down again with Emmett. **I hope I made her day a little brighter.**

** Why was she asking you how to sign?** Emmett asked.

**I don't know. It's cool that she wanted to know, though.**

**I guess. You ready to go home?**

Daphne nodded. **Yes; I still haven't finished my worksheet.**

** I wouldn't want to keep you from that, **Emmett joked, seeing the hatred written on her face.

Daphne punched him in the arm and found herself smiling again, despite how unsettled the girl's intensity had made her. She swung her leg around to the back of Emmett's motorcycle, the odd encounter already fading from her mind.

(-.-)

Neither of them ever thought of that encounter – a strange five minute blip on their lives – again. For, exactly, one week later, their lives changes forever and neither of them could bear to look back to the era of normal.

**The title of this one-shot is taking from the painting **_**The Hard Lesson**_**by **_**William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1884).**_

**I don't own anything recognizable. Thanks to my beta: ImagineYourself64.**

**~TLL~**


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